


Ghastly Nostalgia

by holy3cake



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Amanda needs a hug, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, John saving Lawrence, Lawrence meeting everyone, Logan is kind, Mark is an asshole but we love him, Recovery, Saw Apprentices bonding, Tags may change and update, Trauma, apprentices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy3cake/pseuds/holy3cake
Summary: Lawrence has survived, his game is now over. But the next games have only just started, and John wants to recruit him as an apprentice. How did this all happen, and how will Lawrence react? There may be more than one person he needs to consider, and does he always agree with John's actions?A little story about Lawrence's life after he had to cut his foot off, how he came to be in John's care and some snapshots of him meeting the other apprentices. Slightly cannon compliant but mostly a fill-in-the gaps fic. Rated M for descriptions of violence, please be aware!ON HIATUS UNTIL 2021
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Ghastly Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I wrote this because this is a new flavour and style to my normal stuff, and I really just loved writing about Lawrence and his relationship with everyone else. I do have a few WIP's and I will be updating those when I get some time, I've just been slightly ill and out of inspiration recently so please let me know if there's anything you want to see updated or done! 
> 
> Kudos are comments are always madly appreciated and if I can bring a smile to anyone's face with this, I'm very happy! Please enjoy, and love to you all :) <3

Searing sizzling pain, enough to solder the hardest of hearts. A spitting scorch, not enough to numb the smell of freshly rotten flesh. The decay was beginning to set, as a physical manifestation and an emotional gnaw. But the young doctor wasn’t discouraged, instead he plunged for the alternative to dying and felt the melt of bone pressed against ferocious steam. It wasn’t until he felt the icy embrace of the floor that he could finally close his eyes, darkness swallowing his senses for an impartial amount of time. It was this show of bravery, this desperate intensity to survive, that caught the attention of the mastermind himself. The potency of Lawrence’s actions meant that John had somewhat succeeded, the doctor might not have followed the rules to the letter, but his dismembered foot and trail of blood told a tall tale of courage. After sealimg the fate of his pawn in his elaborate game of chess, he set his eyes on the anomaly threatening to flip the table.

Life is not eternal. Humans are not everlasting. A few undying breaths, but a perpetual heartbeat unwilling to cease its rhythm. Perhaps if Lawrence had known that his rebirth would be quick and painless, he would’ve surrendered his inhibitions sooner. But John’s hands were not welcome through sticky eyelashes. Even his words were a haze of dizzy mutters, his sensitive cochlea barely registering his syllables as words.

“Congratulations Doctor Gordon, you survived.” Splashes of liquid were strewn in Lawrence’s face, and he couldn’t comprehend the substance. Acid? Blood? No, just plain water. First, an action to simply wake the sluggish doctor, the second for his rebirth. Saving Lawrence seemed impossible, but somehow the husk of his body was still able to crawl across five hallways. John had assumed he would simply find another dead body, instead he found a man with potential. Immediately, he wanted to baptize him, start him on a new course of life. A life he would appreciate, and learn to understand. The water trickled down his forehead, spread down his nose, cheeks and chin to signal this new beginning. From that small motion, that moment in time changed Lawrence’s entire world.

The first week in John’s care were the hardest. Scratchy white sheets and strange smells were overwhelming, combined with spells of unconsciousness were almost unbearable. Lawrence couldn’t even understand where he was, even when he could see through blurry eyes all he spotted were mannequins and intricate artistic articles. As bad as the days were, the nights were worst. The loneliness pulled him into the abyss, without so much as a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold. John tried to keep his distance, even when he heard the doctor screaming. There wasn’t any room for emotional weakness, not even the slightest glimmer. Crafting Lawrence’s prosthetic was a priority if he wanted the younger man to work with him, therefore it consumed most of his time. But John was human too, and the constant shrieks prompted him to move his work elsewhere. Little did he know, Lawrence’s agony wasn’t ignored.

During the second week of Lawrence’s stay in warehouse accommodation, there was finally a speck of hope. In the ungodly hours of night, a large figure moved with ease and stealth against security cameras. His shadow was skilled, offering no suspicion to the man monitoring his every move. Covertness was key, which was no problem for him, despite his size. When he’d infiltrated the compound, he located Lawrence in a heartbeat. He’d been aware of his condition for some time, but was unaware of his emotional yearning. According to John, Lawrence had only been in confinement for two weeks, but his blood shot eyes and prominent veins bared trauma of a patient in his seventies. His knuckles were bleeding from clenching the sheets, and his skin was almost transparent. The weak antibiotics that John was feeding the man were clearly not enough, so the veteran prescribed a better course of treatment for him. Lawrence was oblivious to any changes in his care, but he was surprised when he felt an IV drip being inserted into his hand. Only a medical professional would understand the logistics of such a complicated treatment, and so far, he’d only seen a master of steel and engineering. Even this man’s hands felt different, soft palms and firm fingers as opposed to feeble, shaking instruments. It sparked some optimism, but the chances of closure were slim.

The sweet veteran only visited a handful of times, to avoid suspicion and John’s wrath. He never revealed his name, but he longed to gain Lawrence’s trust. It was difficult to do so when he just pushed chemicals through a tube, took his temperature and checked on his general wellbeing. His time was always limited, twenty minutes was not nearly enough time to nurse Lawrence back to health, but he always tried his best. Lawrence wasn’t able to sit up until his seventh visit, and when he did, he stared at him through glazed eyes. Teary, but slightly warmer than the gaze he gave John. The world would never be in sharp focus again, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the new world he’d been inducted into. He was able to see the ashy blonde hair of his remedial stranger, along with his caring coffee-coloured eyes. But alas, it wasn’t the veteran’s appearance that kept Lawrence from using his voice, it was the shred he felt in his vocal cords as he attempted to speak. A harsh shake from the gentle giant helped Lawrence understand that he wasn’t able to put the strain on his throat just yet and he sipped the offering of water from a flavourless plastic cup. That was the last time he ever saw the voracious veteran, but he would be infinitely grateful for his tender care. The wedding band he once spotted across his finger made him feel hopeful, that perhaps John did allow survivors to live their lives.

Despite the intervention and Lawrence’s mysterious fast recovery, John didn’t ask any questions. He knew who was responsible for everything, but he decided to turn his attention to the doctor. His prosthetic was finally ready, and he was prepared for the attack. But Lawrence wasn’t in any kind of mood to form coherent sentences yet, only just conscious he spent most of the day staring at his mutilated stump. Even though he’d cauterized the wound, the stench was one he’d never forget. John’s presence increased his panic, but his struggles were hushed with a wooden biting block. He bit down so hard, he thought his teeth might crack, but he soon fell silent as John placed a prosthetic tourniquet over his leg. His action was enough to render Lawrence dumb, his previous attack forgotten as the older man stared at him in earnest. Lawrence had done nothing but strategize in his head, wondering how he would extract information from his captor. But the last piece of his puzzle clicked into place as the older man patted his shoulder and removed the block from his mouth.

“Thank you…” Was all that Lawrence could manage, his voice now a harsh, gravelly growl. He made an internal note to himself, starting a list that would be invaluable.

_John is not alone. First the nurse, Who else?_


End file.
